


Normal

by panchostokes (badwolfrun)



Series: Prompt Fics [49]
Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Episode Tag, Episode s01e07: Blood Drops, Father-Son Relationship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:07:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22419757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwolfrun/pseuds/panchostokes
Summary: Extended locker room scene at the end of Blood Drops.
Relationships: Gil Grissom & Nick Stokes
Series: Prompt Fics [49]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1540795
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	Normal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ArthursKnight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArthursKnight/gifts).



“It’ll be back to normal in twenty-four hours.”

“Normal’d be nice.”

Grissom had brushed past the younger man, offering a quick, supporting pat on his shoulder. He wasn’t used to seeing Nick brooding, nursing the residual of the physical manifestation of his anger–an anger they all shared, really, with such a horrific, tragic case. 

But in all of his time working with Nick, working with the man who was so eager to please Grissom that it was as amusing as it was annoying because he had _so much to learn_ , Nick had always seemed more…composed than most. Usually kept a tight lid on his emotions with tight lips and a fire blazing in his eyes. There was something about cases, about _this_ case, involving young boys that seemed to strike a nerve Grissom had never seen before in the man. 

For once, Grissom had something he could relate to with Nick. He was reminded of himself at Nick’s age, reminded of his own anger–hell, he would have done more than just punch a door frame at the crime scene, if he hadn’t learned to compartmentalize his own emotions in a near robotic manner. 

Maybe it’s that sense of camaraderie, that connection fortified by an understanding anger, maybe it’s the obvious signs that Nick is still not over the Hendler incident, as Grissom notices the slight twitches in his hand, or maybe it’s the shudder of breath that Nick probably thought would go unnoticed as Grissom neared the exit of the room, but he comes to a halt at the door.

Instead of passing through the threshold and leaving Nick in solitude, he shuts the door, placed his collection of “homework” on the end of the bench. He finally takes a more dedicated look at Nick, his sunken posture that shows his exhaustion, the dried streaks of tears masqueraded in the shadows of his lowered head, the bruised skin of his knuckles as his fingers play a game of hot potato with the makeshift ice pack he presumably got from the break room. 

He could easily be doing all of this at home, and yet, here he is, lingering in the locker room. Perhaps it’s a subconscious conformity to the post-game locker room activity after a loss, even when really, they had won, the case was solved. 

“You’ve been crying,” Grissom whispers as he sits down next to Nick. “I can tell.”

Nick’s eyes remain on the melting ice in his hands. 

“I know…I’m probably the last person who should even be saying this, given my reputation…but emotions are _not_ a sign of weakness, Nicky. This was a tough one.” 

He feels Nick’s body stiffen under his fingers, an inhale of air through his nose, a short nod as his lips strain back into a restraining grimace. 

“And I…I feel like maybe…the events of last week are still…forefront–”

“They’re not.” 

Cold, callous, sharp, almost warning Grissom not to continue down that branch of conversation. 

Not right now, anyway.

“I’m over _that,”_ Nick elaborates. “It’s just…what even _is_ normal, Gris?” 

“According to the dictionary, ‘the usual, average, or typical state or condition.’”

Nick scoffs into a humorless chuckle.

“Nothin’ about this job is usual. Or average. Or typical.”

“You’re right.” 

A beat.

“Listen, the offer I made to you last week still stands. If you need some time off–”

“No,” Nick cuts through again. “No, what I _need_ is to work.”

He turns his head towards Grissom, though his eyes are still hidden from view. 

“Please,” he whispers, in a softer, almost cracking voice. 

And just like that, Grissom melts, and nods, clapping Nick on the shoulder once again. He decides it’s best to just take his leave, Nick doesn’t seem to be much for conversation, and neither is he, for that matter. 

“Hey, Nick…” Grissom turns back at the door. “You did good today.” 

Nick finally lifts his head, his eyes shining, blinking under furrowed eyebrows before his lips twitch into a small smile, and he gives Grissom the reassurance they both need. 

He’ll be back to normal in twenty-four hours. 


End file.
